Knight and Sleigh: An Erotic Lucien Knight Christmas Novella

by Kitty French

  Knight & Sleigh

  By

  Kitty French

  Copyright ©2015 Kitty French

  All rights reserved. This book or any part thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Dedication

  This book is for all of the readers and bloggers who have taken Lucien into their huge hearts and filthy minds.

  Thank you and Merry Christmas,

  love,

  Kitty x

  Please CLICK HERE to receive news from Kitty about new releases.

  Chapter One

  ‘Lucien, did you move my robe?’

  Sophie wrapped a barely big enough towel around herself and called out from the small bathroom in the alpine log cabin. Fresh out of the shower, she was disconcerted by the fact that the soft, floor-length robe she’d hung on the back of the bathroom door seemed to have vanished into thin air. They were miles from anywhere on a snowy mountainside. If it wasn’t Lucien who’d moved it, they were hightailing it back down the mountain to the lodge, snowstorm or no snowstorm.

  The cabin had been in Lucien’s family since he’d been a young child, but it was only in the last year that he’d given Sophie carte blanche to work with a top interior design team and take it from simple to sumptuous. In fact it was only in the last year that he’d paid it any attention at all; he’d got by up to that point on the mantra of preferring to leave his Norwegian childhood memories of that old cabin home unacknowledged behind him in the snow.

  All of that had changed eighteen months ago when Sophie had wandered into his life as his PA and in the following months turned out to be the woman he hadn’t even realised he’d been waiting for, the one who saw the man he hadn’t even realised he wanted to be, the man who could love and be loved. Having the cabin renovated was one of the many ways Lucien had made peace with his past since the loss of his father last Christmas, and coming here now with Sophie, on Christmas Eve, set the seal on it.

  When Sophie called him again, Lucien appeared in the hallway from the living room, naked aside from his favourite old jeans.

  ‘Yes,’ he said gravely, acknowledging the fact that he’d been the one to move her robe rather than a bunch of impish Christmas elves playing pranks.

  ‘Where have you put it?’ Sophie tugged ineffectively to try to make the hand towel cover more than it was capable of.

  ‘In the car, along with the rest of your clothes.’

  Sophie frowned, confused. ‘Are we leaving in a hurry?’ The weather must be forecast to worsen.

  Strangely, Lucien didn’t look at all fazed or in any kind of hurry.

  In fact, he looked utterly relaxed as he stepped up close and unwound the towel from around her hair and combed the damp strands with his fingers, the corners of a smile betraying his serious tone.

  ‘Come and sit by the fire to dry off.’

  Sophie looked at him long and hard, sensing an added dimension to this conversation that she hadn’t quite grasped.

  ‘But I need my robe.’

  In answer, he kissed her damp shoulder and then turned his back, leaving her standing in the bathroom doorway with a towel barely big enough to cover her crotch and a feeling that, as ever, Lucien Knight was up to no good.

  Following him into the living room, she perched beside him on the deep, oxblood velvet sofa and narrowed her eyes at him.

  ‘Care to tell me what’s going on?’

  Lucien slid off the sofa and threw a fresh log onto the fire, then turned to face her, still on his knees on the flagstone floor.

  ‘I’ve decided what I want for Christmas,’ he said.

  Sophie had stressed for weeks over what to give him. He was a man who had everything he wanted whenever he wanted it; surprising him was nigh on impossible. The perfect idea – or possibly perfect idea – had popped into her head a month or so previously, but she still wasn’t one hundred percent certain how it was going to work out. At that very moment in time she had nothing to give him, so whatever he wanted, she was disposed to say yes.

  ‘You did?’ she asked, distracted by his warm hands on her kneecaps, even more so when he opened her thighs and moved between them.

  ‘You, Princess,’ he said. ‘I want to look at you naked for twenty four hours.’

  He kissed her mouth briefly, then slid across to her ear.

  ‘No clothes,' he breathed. 'No robe. No bra. No panties. Totally, gorgeously naked for me the whole time.’

  Sophie’s fingers gripped the top edge of the towel around her body a little tighter. She wasn’t like Lucien. He was a bold, beautiful Viking accustomed to and blase about nakedness. Whereas English girls like Sophie mostly tended to keep their clothes on outside of the bedroom and the bathroom.

  He’d seen her naked plenty of times, but not like this. Not all of the time. The idea of being naked around him twenty-four seven frightened and thrilled her in equal measures. And then the penny dropped, and she understood what he’d said a few minutes earlier about having moved her clothes.

  ‘Did you lock all of my clothes in the car, Lucien?’

  He nodded.

  ‘I thought it would help you.’

  ‘Help me?’

  He smiled obligingly. ‘Help you not to feel tempted to put them on.’

  She looked at him steadily.

  ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’

  She didn’t know why she was even bothering to ask. She knew he was one hundred percent serious. This was how life at Lucien’s side was. Even in the privacy of a snowy log cabin he’d managed to turn the heat up to scorching, and they’d only been there for an hour.

  In the time since she’d become more than his PA, he’d opened her eyes to a whole new world, one without limitations or rules, except for ones he made for his own pleasure. Such as naked Christmas, it would seem.

  ‘It’s only ten in the morning,’ she said.

  Lucien’s hands were warm on her thighs. ‘There’s more to this present, too.’

  She swallowed hard. ‘There is?’

  He nodded, drawing slow circles on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

  ‘I want you to do whatever I tell you to do during those twenty four hours, no questions asked.’

  Oh God. Sophie knew full well that this was a man with a very good imagination. Who knew what he’d have her doing?

  'That’s really what you want for Christmas? A naked slave?’

  He frowned, mildly affronted.

  ‘I never said slave. I wouldn’t ask you to do anything you won’t enjoy. You know that.’

  He lowered his head and kissed the dip between her collarbones, and at the same time untucked the towel from underneath her arm.

  ‘I’m afraid this is going to have to go, Princess.’

  ‘Technically, it’s not clothes,’ she tried, but even as she said it she knew she wouldn’t see that towel again any time soon.

  ‘I think we both know that it’s against the rules,’ he said, opening the towel and letting it fall. ‘Because if I let you keep it, I won’t be able to see you like this.’

  He brushed his fingertips from her shoulders to the rose tips of her breasts.

  ‘You know how much I love your tits, Sophie.’

  He took her hand and placed it over his swollen denim clad crotch. ‘Feel?’

  She let her hand linger, turned on by him as always. His broad chest brushed her nipples as he pushed her damp hair back from her face with his hands and lowered his lips over hers to kiss her, hot and open
mouthed, his tongue sliding over hers as his hips rocked a slow rhythm between her legs.

  ‘I have big plans for you,’ he whispered, dropping his hand between her legs and fingering her so feather light that she gasped and tried to move herself against his hand.

  He laughed low and dirty.

  ‘I know Princess, I know. You want me to finger you harder, to open you wide and slide my thumb over your clit, or lick it, suck on it until you come in my mouth.’

  He circled his index finger around her entrance as he spoke, giving her a little, nowhere near enough, licking his tongue over her lips when she groaned into his mouth.

  ‘It’s better to wait. You know it is,’ he said, his other hand playing with her nipple.

  ‘Let it build,’ he murmured, and for the briefest of beautiful seconds he stroked her clit, his tongue in her mouth. ‘And then pull back again,’ he said, moving his hand away, touching her labia, sliding his index finger just a little way inside her as his kiss turned gossamer light.

  Sophie could feel herself losing control, her legs spread as he laid a hand flat on her breastbone and pushed her backwards onto the sofa. Lucien sat down in front of her, between her legs, his breath warm on her inner thigh.

  ‘When I said I want to look at you, I meant I want to look at you everywhere,’ he said, opening her legs further with his flattened palms and placing a tender kiss on her clitoris before pulling back again.

  ‘I want to look at you like this, naked and spread wide for me. I want to watch your creamy ass when you make coffee, and see your tits bounce when you walk, and lick your nipples every time you’re close to me. I want to be behind you when you bend over so I can see your pretty, pretty cunt, Princess.’

  Sophie squirmed, turned on by his dirty, gravel-edged voice.

  ‘I think you’d probably open your legs a little wider for me if you thought I was looking, eh? To let me see your pink, glistening clit begging for my attention?’

  As he spoke he drew delicate patterns between her legs, and when he mentioned her clitoris she could feel the warmth of his breath drift across her flesh, before the barely-there, oh-so-gratifying touch of the tip of his tongue as he flicked his eyes up to meet hers where she lay watching him. She adored every filthy bone in his body.

  ‘Tell me yes, Sophie,’ he said, placing the lightest of territorial kisses over her clitoris and throwing her the look he knew she could never say no to. It wasn’t Sophie’s fault. He was Lucien Knight, and here he was kissing her in the most intimate, pleasurable way on Christmas Eve. Ninety-nine point nine percent of women would have willingly capitulated under the same circumstances.

  If there was anything in the world she’d deny him, she couldn’t think of it right then.

  ‘Tell me you’ll be my filthy dirty naked Christmas angel,’ he persisted.

  She swallowed and nodded, wide-eyed and wanting.

  ‘I will.’

  Lucien practically rolled his eyes and she knew what was coming. He moved his head back a little, denying her what he knew she wanted. Languid amusement shone in his grey-blue eyes in the firelight.

  ‘You know the drill, Princess.’

  Sophie cleared her throat. Even though they’d been together for so long now, he still had the power to render her pink-cheeked with nerves.

  ‘Fine,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll be your filthy dirty naked Christmas angel.’

  He nodded approvingly and slid the tip of his finger inside her, moving it lazily.

  ‘Now say it with my name, too.’

  He had her hot and flustered and he knew it.

  She puffed her still damp fringe out of her eyes and looked at him dead on.

  ‘I’ll be your filthy dirty Christmas angel, Lucien.’

  The smallest of triumphant smiles crossed his lips as he dropped both of his hands between her legs and splayed her lips wide with his fingertips.

  ‘Good girl.’

  She sighed blissfully, lying back against the enveloping softness of the velvet sofa cushions as he licked her exposed sex slowly, lingering over her clitoris, closing his eyes, whispering ‘princess’ as he mouthed her tenderly.

  He had incredible power over Sophie, never more so than when he made love to her like this. He could switch from lethal to loving on a dime, and it was an incredible turn-on never to know what might happen next with him.

  And true to form, just like that, his eyes snapped open and his mouth slid up over her mound as he reached for one of her hands and pulled her forwards into a sitting position. He moved with her, still on his knees between her thighs, his crotch now level with hers, his hands moving hot over her breasts. He was turned on. His cock told her so, hard and potent between her legs, and the dark glitter in his eyes told her so too; she knew that sinful, determined glow better than anyone. He was a man who liked to be in control in every area of his life, a principle he applied just as vigorously to his sex life as any other aspect.

  ‘What will I do when you make coffee, Sophie?’ he said, his body flush against hers from shoulder to hip.

  It was genuinely difficult to gather her thoughts coherently.

  ‘Look at my ass,’ she managed to say, sliding her hands down over the solid wall of his chest. He was a strong man in every sense; he had a physical presence that made sure everyone knew he was there, and mentally he was the strongest man Sophie had ever known. He carried so much weight on his broad shoulders, but he made it look effortless.

  ‘That’s right. I’m going to look at your gorgeous ass and think about bending you over the kitchen table and fucking you really, really hard.’

  Sophie’s eyes slid towards the kitchen doorway. She could see the table from where she sat and made a mental note to make sure she didn’t leave any fragile crockery on it. The practical thought made her smile inwardly. But it was a momentary distraction, as Lucien’s mesmerising voice persisted.

  ‘What am I going to do to you every time you’re close to me, Princess?’

  She wanted him so badly that she couldn’t think back to what he’d said.

  Instead, she tried, ‘Do you think you could put your hand back between my legs to help me remember?’

  Lucien laughed softly. ‘What did we just say about waiting?’

  Sophie popped the top button of his jeans, aching to speed forward to the moment when he touched her again.

  ‘If you need a clue, it involves your tits.’

  He thumbed her nipples as he spoke, watching her eyes.

  ‘You’re going to lick my nipples whenever you’re near to me,’ she said, now remembering his earlier words, and he flicked an eyebrow up in acknowledgment and then lowered his head obligingly to her breasts to demonstrate.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you you were going to enjoy this?’

  He licked first one of her nipples and then the other, kneading her breasts in his hands.

  Sophie had never really been in doubt that she’d enjoy whatever Lucien had in store. He got off on pushing her up to her limits all of the time, yet he seemed instinctively to know where the final threshold was and never strayed beyond it.

  Sophie cradled his head in her hands, riffling her fingers through his ash blond hair, her shoulders lifting almost around her ears in tight pleasure as he sucked her nipple into the warmth of his mouth, teasing her with the graze of his teeth. She already knew where their conversation was headed next.

  ‘Now. I seem to remember being taught always to show rather than tell as a child,’ he said, his mouth hot against her neck. ‘So stand up, bend over, and show me, Sophie.’

  She closed her eyes for a second as he moved backwards to give her space enough to do as she was told. She loved this man to his big Viking bones, but he sure did like to get his own way.

  He saw her hesitation.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, getting up off his knees and pulling her onto her feet by the hand with him.

  ‘Let me help you out. Let’s say I’m here, reading the newspaper, like this.’

 
He arranged himself on the sofa, legs crossed, one foot casually on his knee. Opening his invisible newspaper, he gave it a good shake.

  ‘Now let’s say… you’ve dropped one of your earrings,’ he said. ‘One of the diamond studs I gave you for your birthday.’

  Sophie’s hands moved instinctively to her earlobes to confirm that the beautiful diamond studs she always wore were still actually there.

  ‘But you know I never take them out,’ she murmured, hyper-aware of her own nudity, knowing she was playing for time.

  ‘It’s a game,’ he said. ‘Play along. You know you dropped it somewhere quite close to the sofa.’

  Sophie looked at him, still stroking her earrings absently. He was surveying her too, his eyes dark with lust, but his voice was still low and soft.

  ‘Wait. Hold it there for just one second,’ he said, and reached down the back of the sofa. When he straightened, he held a gift-wrapped box in his hands.

  ‘I was going to save these until tomorrow, but actually I think you should have them now.’

  Sophie looked at the rectangular box in his hands, simply wrapped in brown paper embossed with silver reindeers. Remembering the game, she enquired,

  ‘Should I find my earring first?’

  Lucien shook his head and handed her the gift.

  ‘Open it.’

  Pulling the silver ribbons loose, Sophie slid her fingers under the edge of the paper, savouring the exciting moment of not knowing what he’d chosen for her. Lucien was a man of exquisite taste and he gave gifts with the same extravagance he’d given his heart, wholly and fully. The iconic swirl of writing across the pale box lid gave the game away early. Louboutin. Sighing with pleasure, Sophie lifted the lid and revealed the black patent pumps with their signature glossy red soles and slender stiletto spike heels. They were shoes designed to make a woman feel sexy, and Lucien had chosen that moment to give them to her because he’d realised that the confidence boost would be welcome.

  The distraction from the game had given her time to recover her poise, and she slid the shoes from the box and held them pleasurably.